


Rumors

by Griffy (honklust)



Series: Monkey Wrench [3]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Canon-Typical Behavior, Cunnilingus, Drunk Sex, Explicit Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, Fake AH Crew, Intoxication, M/M, Public Sex (mentioned), Smut, Trans Character, Trans Male Character, Trans Michael Jones, Violent Thoughts, dick sucking, handjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-18
Updated: 2019-10-18
Packaged: 2020-12-23 16:36:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21084464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honklust/pseuds/Griffy
Summary: This work is in the same timeline + universe as Dog Days (It just got a little out of hand so I figured I'd post it on it's own.) you don't have to have read that one, but it might add to some of the characterization a bit!Ryan's trying to decide if he should jump the gun and start properly engaging in the more uncouth hobbies the Fakes get up to together. Michael makes that decision for him.





	Rumors

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is 18+ and contains graphic sexual content. 
> 
> I have written Michael as a trans man, using terminology that I, a trans man, am comfortable with. This may make some other trans people uncomfortable, so please read at your own discretion! There is no transphobia in this fic, and while Ryan is at first a bit surprised, things proceed very normally. 
> 
> Additionally, Michael is a good bit more intoxicated than Ryan, and while they mention that and Michael makes his previous intentions clear, this may be triggering or upsetting for some individuals. Please keep that in mind!
> 
> There is also a bit where Michael waxes a little poetic about violence and gets a bit possessive, so if that's not your cup of tea, feel free to skim that part.
> 
> If there are any further warnings/tags I missed, please feel free to let me know in the comments so I can fix it! Thanks!

Ryan sort of hated that he felt a lot more clear-headed after his night with Gavin. 

It made him sort of uncomfortable that the other man seemed to hold such an important position in his life – and more importantly, that he seemed to have genuinely been feeling so bad before, simply due to a lack of…

Of what? Intimacy? Sex?

Whatever.

He didn’t want to focus on that. Focusing on his leftover feelings would be kind of beside the point, right? He was over it. He’d been cured of his fuddy-duddies. No more investigation was necessary.

So he focused on other things, like heists. Heists were getting  _ damn  _ good. Getting to know the rest of the Fakes was coming easier, too. He was enjoying spending game nights with them, feeling the tension ease from his shoulders. Hell, he was really, properly starting to feel like part of the group now.

He was getting used to a lot of things. Like joking around, and like talking, and like-

Like Michael sucking Gavin off in public. In- In  _ outside _ public. Like, right there, in front of Geoff’s penthouse, against the roof of some very expensive sport’s car,  _ public. _

“Jesus, boys, get a fucking room.” Jack had broken that particular tryst up, although not without earning herself some patented Michael Threats for her trouble. She’d pointed a gun at him and gotten the point through well enough, though.

Okay, maybe he wasn’t getting used to that. He wanted to move  _ past  _ the sex stuff! He wanted to improve in other ways! To get to know the boys outside of the times they made his dick hard and made his heart hammer in his chest.

No, he absolutely did not want to focus on sex anymore. He’d gotten his rocks off, Gavin had returned a long-owed favor, and he felt all the better for it. That was all he should’ve needed.

He wanted to focus on work! Really! His newfound clear-headedness was doing wonders for him, and he’d been in a much more pleasant mood, and he wanted to channel all that into getting shit done. Increasing the Fakes territory and staking new claims, knocking down anything in their way.

But, as he grew more comfortable around his crewmates, he found himself unable to  _ not  _ notice how… Horny everyone was, for lack of a better word. He couldn’t go more than a few days without catching someone groping someone else, or (and this was usually just the Lads, to be fair) just full-on dry humping right out in the open. It was starting to get him frustrated in a whole new way – he still wasn’t sure of his footing in terms of relationships, and now that the gauze of panic had been lifted, that sense of unbelonging was growing stronger.

What would be inappropriate behavior? Would it be rude to comment when Michael and Gavin started getting handsy during a meeting? Would he be making an ass of himself if he quietly told Jack that her shirt had come nearly fully unbuttoned?

It was like the barest taste of something carnal had trapped him beneath a slowly building ocean of desperation. His earlier sense of discomfort had been replaced with a distant, embarrassed hunger. He’d been hiding these urges for so long, but now that he’d been  _ allowed  _ to engage once… He felt like a champagne bottle that had been uncorked.

He wanted to be a part of the Fakes now more than he ever had before. He wanted to really,  _ properly  _ fit in. And… Maybe he wanted to allow himself to try touching those relationships that had felt so off-limits to him for so long. Maybe he wanted to ignore the voice that still sometimes told him he was being innapropriate. Maybe he wanted to allow himself some leeway. See what might happen.

All his new, awkward boners aside, he really was feeling better. His energy was up, he was less cranky, less hidden behind his own mask. 

He knew the others could tell – he’d heard Michael ribbing Gavin (embarrassingly) about what he must’ve done to Ryan to get the stick out of his ass. 

He’d underestimated Michael’s determination to find out what was going on, though. He’d assumed that the younger man was just bullying him for fun, that his pressing, lurid questions were just for laughs. He hadn’t paid close enough attention to the dark glint in his eyes – the one that meant he was out for blood.

It all came to a head one night, after a long, mostly-drunken session of Halo wherein Ryan and Jack had gotten into a screaming match about “warp technology!!!”

Michael had been forcing Gavin to do shots with him, and everything had grown steadily warmer and softer as the night wore on. The room was humid, stinking of alcohol, filled with the sounds of video game menu music. It felt… Nice. Really, really nice.

Things were genuinely starting to feel like home. 

Ryan hadn’t been paying attention to Michael, though. 

He was fumbling with his phone, admittedly tipsy from the singular rum and coke he’d had. To be honest, he was a hell of a lightweight - that was the reason he very,  _ very  _ rarely indulged in alcohol. That, and he liked to remain in control of his facilities. 

In fact, he hadn’t really been paying enough attention to really register that Jack and Geoff had shuffled off to Geoff’s room, even if he did laugh at Michael’s comment that they were going to go “Have gross old person sex.” It was pushing three in the morning, which was when most of them started to get sleepy usually, anyway. He figured he’d last another hour or two, just too comfy where he was sitting to bother getting up.

He was reading an article about black holes, not absorbing any of the information, when very suddenly his phone had been knocked clean out of his hands, replaced by one broad, sweaty Michael-palm. He looked up, brows furrowed, only to find the younger man staring down at him, his nose crinkled, his mouth carved into a wide, nasty smile.

Drunk Michael was one thing. Drunk Michael with a bone to pick was another.

“Heeeeeey, Mr. Vagabond.” He drawled, inching closer, close enough that Ryan backed up just so their noses wouldn’t touch. He felt his back press into the fine leather of Geoff’s couch.

“Uh- Hello, Michael.” He replied, both eyebrows raised high, questioning. He didn’t have a clue what was going on.

“I heard a couple ‘a rumors.” Michael continued, reaching up to tap Ryan in the center of the forehead, harder than necessary.

“Rumors? Like what?” Ryan smirked, keeping his cool. Michael was funny when he was drunk – trying to play up the intimidation factor.

“Rumors like you’re a huge fuckin’ slut!” Michael stood up straight, crossed his arms over his chest triumphantly. “Ain’t that right, Haywood? You’re a big ol’ slut and you’re just gaggin’ for Gavvy to throw you a b-“ He broke off, letting out a particularly gaggy-sounding burp. “Throw you a bone.”

Admittedly, that accusation kind of made his dick twitch. And admittedly, maybe that did make him kind of a huge slut.

Either way, he drew an inhale and cocked his eyebrow at Michael, looking dubious. “Well, I don’t know where you heard that. I wasn’t the one who followed a man to his job just to get on his knees.”

Michael seemed to enjoy that, a loud bark of laughter echoing out of him. He unceremoniously placed a hand on Ryan’s chest and climbed up into his lap, his ass resting on the other man’s bony knees. Still snorting, he raised an eyebrow at him, noting the high flush on the Vagabond’s cheeks. “Hey, I never said Gav wasn’t  _ also  _ a huge slut.”

Ryan felt his brain come to a full-stop, like he’d hit a brick wall. He hadn’t expected to have Michael in his lap right now. Actually, he hadn’t ever taken Michael much for the “sitting in your lap” type to start with.

Without thinking, he replied, “Well, what, uh- What does that make you?”

That was bold. Maybe the boldest flirting he’d done in… Years, actually. It immediately set his heart racing in his chest, his face going hot.

Michael just grinned down at him, all teeth and gumline and whiskey breath. “I’unno, man. What are you implying?” He shifted his hips forward and very suddenly there was a hand on Ryan’s stomach, groping at him with a clumsy, aimless determination that was very, very Michael Jones. “Do you think I’m a slut? S’kinda a shitty thing to say to someone.”

It was Ryan’s turn to laugh – a low, nervous chuckle. He shifted under Michael’s weight, his fingers twitching where they rested on the couch. He wanted to touch him. He did not. “Well, uhhh, to be fair, Michael, I think you called  _ me  _ a slut initially. I think that was what we were talking about.”

Michael didn’t respond to that, just made a distant, “hmm” sound, his eyes drifting down Ryan’s face, to his lips. He was openly staring at him, and Ryan felt like a prey animal. 

With Michael already sitting on him, his hand inching it’s way down to his belt buckle, he came to the incredible, unspeakably hot realization that this was all premeditated. He realized, too late, that he had been being stalked. 

He cleared his throat, his heart hammering a rhythm in his ears as the whole room seemed to draw slower and tighter around them. It was like he was getting contact-drunk just sitting here, the way Michael was leering at him rendering him dumb and disoriented.

He knew Michael was going to kiss him. He saw him leaning in, saw his eyelashes brush his cheeks as he closed his eyes. He knew it was coming, and it still tore every last breath out of his body.

Michael was softer than he expected him to be. Everything he’d learned about the man had been all sharp edges – he was violent and blunt and even his laugh felt like a knife in the gut sometimes. Michael Jones never came across as soft.

But now… Now he kind of did. He kissed him with an eager, drunk passion, his lips pushed up against Ryan’s, one hand cupping at the back of his head, tangling up in his ponytail. It wasn’t gentle by any stretch, but it also wasn’t the kind of trying-to-eat-you eagerness that Ryan had sort of imagined.

When he pulled away, he was met with half-lidded brown eyes and flushed cheeks, a satisfied little smirk on Michael’s face. “Ha. Gotcha.” He said, like he’d won a game Ryan wasn’t aware he was playing.

All Ryan wanted to do was to kiss him again. He wanted to put his hands on Michael’s hips and pull him flush to his body, wanted to grind up against his ass until one of them came, and then—

The possibilities were overwhelming. His head was swimming, his heart slamming against the inside of his ribcage like a trapped animal.

“You look like you’re gonna pass out.” Michael said, his voice tinted with amusement. The hand that was still fumbling around near Ryan’s waistline tippy-tapped lower, his fingers pressing down against the bulge in his jeans, tearing a gasp from his lips. 

Michael whistled approvingly. “Not bad, cowboy.”

“Wait-“ Ryan managed, his voice choked. One broad hand wrapped around Michael’s forearm and he sighed softly, gathering his composure. He had to be responsible, right? He was mostly sober. Michael was drunk. This would be inappropriate.

“What?” He sounded annoyed, his brows furrowed as he squirmed in Ryan’s grip. “You scared? I’m not gonna hurt your dick, dude. Promise.”

“No, no! No, I. You’re drunk.”

“Yeah? No shit.”

“And I’m not.”

“Because you’re a straight-edge pussy.”

Ryan huffed at that, rolling his eyes, his grip on Michael’s arm waning. “I am not a pussy. I just don’t like booze! I-I had some alcohol! Anyways, uh.. if I fuck you or something, that’s… Bad.” Very articulate. Good job, Ryan.

“Why’s it bad?” Michael was getting annoyed, it was obvious, and really, Ryan didn’t want to do anything but let it go and let Michael have his fun. It might be okay… But. He wanted to put up a good fight first, at least.

“Because what if you regret it tomorrow!” He argued, the weight of the other man in his lap growing increasingly distracting.

“Then I’ll tell you not to mention it. No bigs.” Michael leaned in, ducked his head so he was whispering against the shell of Ryan’s ear. “I promise I’m not gonna regret shit, though, dude. I’ve been thinkin’ about you a lot.”

That drew all the fight from Ryan’s shoulders, his heart skipping a beat. His arms turned to goo. “…Really?”

“Yeah. I’unno. Maybe I think your whole dorky serial killer schtick is kinda sexy.”

“Really…?”

“Yeah? Who the fuck isn’t? Like, I mean, it’s kinda embarrassing that you’re playing a character, but… I dig it.”

“It’s not embarrassing! I mean, I’m not- I’m not playing any characters!” He shouted, a little louder than he intended. 

Michael cackled at him, reaching up and cupping his stubbly, flushed-red cheeks. “Dude, shut up.” He leaned forward, pressed his nose to the side of Ryan’s face. The gesture was so intimate it stole Ryan’s breath away for a moment. Michael’s voice was low and hungry, thick with warm intoxication. “D’you wanna fuck around or not?”

He’d been avoiding that question. They’d already tip-toed around it, but Michael could tell he didn’t want to say no. His tepid protests had just been a formality. He was too weak-willed to resist, and Michael could smell it.

Ryan drew a slow inhale through his nose, his hands trembling as they came up, settled in the slight dip of Michael’s sides. “…Yes.” He replied, his voice low.

That was all he needed. Michael grinned against Ryan’s skin, dipped forward so he could drag his teeth along the shell of the older man’s ear. “Knew it.” He chuckled against his face, driving a shiver straight down Ryan’s spine. “I win.”

“Win… what?” Ryan stuttered, his fingers tightening against Michael’s warm skin. He wanted to slip his hands under his t-shirt. He wanted to keep going. His patience had really started to wane – every little thing seemed to be wearing down his remaining shreds of formality. He wondered how long it’d be til he was trying to get laid every five minutes like the rest of them.

He didn’t think that would be so bad. Not really.

Michael rocked his hips forward, spread his legs so he could wiggle in close, press flush to Ryan’s chest. He was pressed up against his cock like that, and the slight friction made him shudder softly. “I bet Gav that I could get you to fuck me, first try.”

“…Oh.” Ryan snorted, let his head fall back against the couch, Michael’s hand’s still on his face. “You two are incorrigible.”

“I’unno what that means.” He replied happily, fingertips tracing down the curve of Ryan’s throat, marveling at the swell of his Adam’s apple, at the faint scars just below his jawline. 

“What’s this from?” He asked, digging a blunt thumbnail into the pale mark that ran the span of his throat, from one side to the other.

“Piano wire.” Ryan replied, suddenly breathless. He’d died from that one. The scar had been faint, present when he’d respawned. Like a ghost.

“Mm. Ouch.” Michael’s voice had dropped low, his eyes transfixed on the skin there. The more he looked at Ryan, the more marks he noticed – faint and distinct, each one telling a special, quiet story of violence. Ryan was a violent man. They all were.

Michael liked that. Letting violence engulf him felt good – it felt safe. No better way to get over a fear of fire than to dive headfirst into the flames. He dug his nail in deeper, left a dull pink crescent-moon pressed into the skin. He wondered how easy Ryan would be to carve up. How easy it would be to split him open, to spill his blood, to leave him warm and panting and marked up with  _ his  _ name.

That was a slippery train of thought. Ryan wasn’t going to go for that. Not when they had barely even made out yet. It was just hard not to get ahead of himself when he was wasted and horny. Couldn’t help it.

“Hey.” He paused, sitting back and looking down at Ryan’s bleary, horny face. He was cute like that – looking like he’d already been fucked out even though he’d barely touched him. “Hey, uh. Real quick.”

“Yes?” Ryan faltered, brows furrowed. If Michael was having second thoughts, that would be okay. He could take care of himself. His thumbs rubbed idle circles against the other man’s sides.

“Uhh…” Michael wiggled his hips, leaned back so he could undo his jeans. “C’mere.” He took one of Ryan’s hands, dragging it forward. “Here, uh- c’mon.” He ushered him along, brows furrowed. This was the easiest thing to do – easier than stumbling drunkenly over his words. If Ryan decided he wasn’t interested in him, so be it. Whatever.

Ryan was confused, although not put off by Michael’s pushiness. He figured he was just impatient, and honestly, the idea of having the other man’s cock in his hand was exciting. He let Michael lead him, hesitantly pushing his hand down the front of his pants, warm fingers dragging down the soft front of his boxers, pinned between the fabric.

He’d expected to be met with an erection – warm and familiar – but what he found was a little different. He was confused for a moment, felt tentatively along the soaked fabric between Michael’s thighs, pushed instinctively forward. The reedy groan that pulled from Michael’s throat was answer enough. His brain was chugging along, trying it’s damnedest to come to the obvious conclusion here.

“Oh.” He said, softly. He didn’t sound upset or anything – just kind of quietly intrigued. That was… good. Michael liked that. It was miles better than most first reactions he earned.

“Oh?” Michael pushed him, his fingers tight around Ryan’s wrist, only letting up when he felt him curl his fingers, push forward harder, grind against his soaked cunt. “Mh- hah. Easy, tiger.”

“Ah. Uh. Sorry.” Ryan faltered. He was a little nervous, to be honest – he’d never had sex with a trans man before, and he didn’t want to do something wrong… But. Michael was a headstrong man. If he didn’t like something, Ryan had no doubt that he would stop him immediately. That was comforting. He was glad he was in charge.

“Nah, don’t… Apologize.” Michael grinned at him, his cheeks red, his eyes narrowed. He released his grasp on Ryan’s hand entirely. “You cool?”

“I… Like to think I’m pretty cool.”

Michael let out a sharp laugh, “That’s not what I fuckin’ meant. I just mean, like. S’this good? You’re not gonna freak out? You freak out a lot.”

“Michael. I don’t think your- um. I don’t think your  _ body _ is going to make me freak out.” He narrowed his eyes, growing a little bolder. He slid his hand out of Michael’s pants again, only to usher him out of his lap. “Take off your jeans.”

“Oh, you’re bossin’ me around, now?” Michael inclined his head, still grinning, but did just as he was told. He shed his jeans clumsily, kicking them off towards the coffee table. Gavin was snoring. Idiot was gonna miss a damn good show.

“Not unless you want me to!”

“I don’t think you  _ could  _ boss me around, Haywood.” He stood in front of him, hand pressed lasciviously against his crotch, grinding his swollen cock against his palm. “Y’wanna see my dick?”

“Yes.” He said, before he got the chance to think about it.

Michael snickered at him, “Eager, huh?” He closed the space between them, hooked his thumb in the waistband of his boxer briefs and tugged them down far enough to show Ryan the trail of his light-brown pubes.

Ryan’s mouth had gone dry, his eyes glued to the new strip of skin Michael had exposed – every bit as pale and freckly as the rest of him. Somehow the fact that Michael was drunkenly teasing him was hotter than if he’d just gotten fully naked. 

Ryan wanted to make a snappy comeback or something, but he really couldn’t. It felt like everything in his brain had been ground to a stop, all the blood in his body rushing to his cock. Christ.

If he’d known sleeping with his crewmates was so intense, maybe he would’ve done it sooner.

Michael caught Ryan by the chin, smirking at him as he leaned down and kissed him again, his mouth tasting like whiskey and coke and a little like weed. It wasn’t the most pleasant thing on earth, but in that moment, Ryan wouldn’t have wanted anything else. “You’re fuckin’ hot.” Michael grumbled against his lips, keeping their foreheads together as he clumsily shoved his underwear down his thighs with one hand.

He released Ryan’s head from his grasp after a moment, stood up straight, left him with an eyeful of curly pubes. “How’s that, pervert? Y’like that?” His voice was harsh and loud, teasing in the same nasty tone he used when he had someone’s head under his boot. He curled his fingers in Ryan’s long hair, took a couple steps forward so their legs were touching. “C’mere.” He breathed, eyes dark.

Ryan’s breathing was heavy, his whole body thrumming with arousal. Fuck. Oh god. Okay. He let Michael manhandle him forward, dipped his head as he was drawn in against the other man’s stomach. He pressed a few feverish, panicked kisses to his skin, felt him suck in a sharp breath from the contact.

His stubble felt damn good against Michael’s lower stomach, but that wasn’t really where he wanted his mouth right now. The angle was a little uncomfortable to be fair, but he was too drunk to care about that. He slid his free hand between his legs, spread himself, squeezed his cock lightly between his first two fingers. It was swollen, and Ryan caught the barest glint of silver in the low light.

_ “Jesus…”  _ Ryan breathed. He didn’t need to be told what to do, this time. He took Michael’s lead, scooted his ass backwards on the couch and brought his hands up to his hips, helping to angle him as he ran the flat of his tongue across Michael’s feverish, swollen skin.

Michael groaned out loud, head tipped forward to watch the Vagabond go down on him. He’d been waiting for this for fucking ages – wanted to have the creep between his legs since pretty much the first time he’d seen him. He spread his cunt a little more, shifted his hips forward at an angle. Ryan’s tongue was warm on his skin, slick as he eased it across the metal of his piercings. He rocked against his mouth, held his head still so he could grind on his face.

It was really, really nice for a long moment– Ryan let his thoughts melt away, let himself relish in the taste of Michael’s cock on his tongue, in the feeling of dipping lower, of feeling how wet he was against his chin. But… After a while, his neck was really starting to ache - the angle was hell on his back and shoulders.

“Wait-“ He pulled back, his voice thick. His face was flushed hot from arousal, his dick aching in his jeans.

“What?” Michael sounded annoyed, but he didn’t make a move to force him back down, just narrowed his eyes.

“Just, uh… Here.” He slid down off the couch, more graceful than expected, and landed on his knees on the floor.

Michael’s agitation swiftly turned once more to cocky arousal, letting out a pleased little noise as he grabbed him by the hair again. He yanked Ryan’s head backwards until he groaned, his mouth open, breath coming hard and fast. “There we go… You know your fuckin’ place, huh, Haywood?”

God. God, he did. He should’ve expected Michael to be this good at dirty talk – he was practically doing it all the time, anyway – but even still, the derision in his tone made his dick twitch.

Michael didn’t give him the opportunity for an answer, once again dragging Ryan forward until he could shove his face between his legs. He buried his nose against the side of his short length, humped clumsily against his mouth for a moment. Any friction was good friction. “Y’think you can get me off? You know how to do this?”

Ryan didn’t… Really know how to do this. He had a vague idea – he’d gone down on both people vaginas and people with penises, so he considered himself  _ marginally  _ skilled, although he didn’t really have any experience having sex with trans people specifically. He had a pretty good idea that Michael would be happy to teach him, though.

He pulled away again just to inhale a heavy breath. “I- I have a general idea.” He replied lowly, his hands coming up to ease down Michael’s thighs, massage the tense muscle there.

Michael snorted at him, pulled Ryan away from his crotch just to make him watch as he touched himself. He stroked the few inches of his cock, dragged the skin back a little with a soft sigh. “Suck on it.” He commanded, voice thick and growly as he shoved Ryan’s mouth back against his dick, didn’t give him the opportunity to think about it.

Ryan spluttered just a little, inhaled through his nose and did his damnedest to do as he was directed. He closed his lips around the swollen flesh, managed to get just enough suction to make Michael groan – low and pleased. He sucked at his skin, tongue pressing flat against the soaked underside, against the top of his hole. The noises he was making were lascivious - wet and hungry.

Michael was panting above him now, his face flushed and sweaty. “Good. You’re a quick learner.” He laughed, spreading his legs and groping himself, spreading his lips with his fingers. “You can lick me too. Don’t forget about my dick, though. Ain’t gonna get me off without it.”

There was something deeply arousing about letting this drunken criminal use him like a glorified sex toy, Michael’s calloused fingers digging into his scalp, pulling at his hair. He could do this all afternoon, he thought. 

He dipped his head lower, hands warm and firm on Michael’s thighs as he made an effort to run the flat of his tongue across his cunt, draw warm, soaked stripes across his hole. Michael was soaked to the bone already, and every motion seemed to make him happy - a string of drunk, pleased curses dripping from his lips.

He fell into a rhythm easily enough – sucking and lapping at Michael’s dick, occasionally dipping lower to drag the flat of his tongue across his cunt again, take in just how fucking  _ wet  _ he was. He wanted to finger him, but he wasn’t sure, hadn’t been told to do that. He’d wait. He was getting very good at waiting.

Michael’s breathing quickened fast – his motions clumsier as he held Ryan’s head in place, started to hump against his tongue. His thighs were trembling a little bit, words growing slurred and gravelly. Everything was starting to get hot and thick, the world around him a hazy cloud of intoxication and arousal.

For a moment, he was almost there. He could feel it - a kind of clarifying second of pure, unadulterated bliss. It sent his heart hammering, his eyes flying open, a manic laugh escaping his lips. And then his orgasm was upon him, pushing him careening over the edge of the precipice, crashing down in uncontrollable, unspeakable pleasure. 

“SHIT!” He cursed, the word trembling, rife with endorphin-fueled giggles. His thighs shook as he came against Ryan’s face, crushing his nose into his pelvis, humping his tongue. He kept it up for a few moments - motions clumsy and hungry, wanting more, always wanting more. 

Ryan remained well-behaved. He stayed still for him, eyes open in awe as Michael came undone above him. He wished he could see his face, but the feeling of his quaking against his head was enough. He could feel his cock pulsing against his tongue, feel as extra wetness flooded between his legs, sticky and clear against his mouth and chin.

Michael finally released him after what felt like an eternity, his hands shaking in his hair, a blissed-out, sleepy smile on his face. “Fuck, dude… That ain’t bad.” 

Ryan laughed - breathless. “Ha- Well. Well thank you, Michael.” He didn’t know if this would be it - if Michael was going to be too sleepy to continue. If he was, really, that was fine. He was more than happy with what he’d gotten so far, more than happy to have been given this opportunity. His head was spinning.

He didn’t really see it coming when Michael dropped down to his knees in front of him, using Ryan’s shoulder to keep from toppling over forward. His hands were on his belt, and Ryan fell back a bit, his spine hitting the front of the couch. “Oh.” He said, softly. He was looking at Michael in rapt amazement, his eyes wide, his breathing sharp and shallow. “You- You don’t have to-”

“Shuttup, lemme see that diiiiick.” Michael shoved at his chest playfully, a dumb grin on his face as he wrestled Ryan’s belt buckle open, making quicker work of his jeans. He shoved them summarily down his ass, groping at the thick, hot bulge in his boxer briefs. “Shit, dude. Really not bad, huh?”

“I don’t know if- if that’s a compliment or a backhanded insult.” Ryan quipped, the words completely devoid of any venom.

“S’a compliment, promise.” Michael’s fingers were firm, but not too harsh, clumsily stroking him through the fabric. “Would you be pissed if I just made you cum in your fuckin’ underwear? That’d be a mess, wouldn’t it?”

“I-” Ryan’s voice caught in his throat. At this point, he’d be happy if Michael just kept touching him - he’d come anywhere he fucking told him to. It wasn’t going to be very long, anyway.

Michael noticed how flustered he was and he snickered at him, happy to take that for encouragement. “Nah, don’t worry. I’ll be nice.” And with that, he was tugging down his underwear, wrapping sweaty fingers around Ryan’s cock.

He was so hard it  _ hurt  _ and the sudden bare-skin contact made him moan out loud, his eyes growing wide, his head snapping backwarads. “Fuck, Michael-”

“Nah, we’ll work up to that.” Michael replied snidely, smoothing his thumb across the slick, flushed head of his dick. “How about this, though?”

He dipped forward, crowded Ryan into the space between his own body and the couch, and licked a long, wet stripe up the length of his cock, from the base to the head. Ryan’s thighs were already shivering, an intense tightness winding up in his lower stomach. It wouldn’t be long before that rubber band snapped and he came completely undone.

“Mmmichael-- ahh-” He gasped, a series of embarassingly soft, desperate moans spilling past his lips. His hand landed softly in Michael’s hair, patting at his gingery mohawk. It was so intense it really almost hurt, like he was standing too close to a flame. His fingers spasmed agaisnt Michael’s scalp, his hips jumping forward against his volition.

The younger man smirked against his skin, practically lying on his stomach in front of him, hand squeezing at the base of his cock, mouthing along his shaft. “C’mon, bitch. Cum on my fucking face.” He muttered, his words rushed and hot.

Ryan didn’t think it was possible to cum on command, actually. He had assumed that was a porn thing, but… He was proven very wrong, in that moment.

The grit of Michael’s voice combined with the overwhelming feeling of his hot, damp breath on his skin, his calloused fingers gently squeezing -- it was too much. He felt the tension inside him boil over, felt everything collapse in on itself, a singularity of overwhelming, white-hot pleasure.

He didn’t really know what kind of embarrassing noise he made, but his hips jumped again as he came. Michael moved back just enough- just enough for him to paint his nose and cheek with streaks of white, sticky cum. It dripped down off his eyelashes on one side, a nasty, satisfied smirk curling his lips as he looked up at Ryan.

“That good, huh?” He cooed, sitting up properly, letting the other man - spent, panting, exhausted - get a nice, long look at him. “I guess you were right, actually, dude.” He moved forward, caught Ryan under the chin, and pressed a sticky kiss to his lips. Ryan could taste himself there, and his dick gave one more valiant, aching twitch. “Guess I kinda am a slut too, huh?”

**  
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**Author's Note:**

> Like I said, this was meant to be chapter 10 of Dog Days but it got... too long for its own good lol. Joneswood is my bread and butter, though, so I couldn't just let this go to waste. As always, comments and kudos are much appreciated! <3 Thanks for reading!


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